


The Adventures of Iron Mog

by orphan_account



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Coulson's name is still Agent, Everyone Loves Tony-Cat, Except Tony-Cat, Loki is an asshat, M/M, Pre-Slash, Team Bonding over Cat!Tony, The Author Also Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Has Issues, Tony Is Also Turning Into A Cat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-21
Updated: 2013-06-03
Packaged: 2017-12-03 03:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/693732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tony is slowly turning into a cat. Everyone thinks this is hilarious, up until the point at which they realize Tony is also forgetting how to be human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp.  
> This is my first time writing fic without co-oping with my cousin,  
> This is also my first time writing Avengers fic.  
> This is also my first time attempting to write a multi-chapter ever.
> 
> So, lots of first times, but none of them shall be Steve+Tony's. Sorry guys. Not even going to try.  
> Rated T because Tony.  
> Title may change.

Like most of the things that went wrong in the Avenger's lives, the blame was split between Loki, Clint and Tony.

A chunk of building flew past Tony’s head at a rather alarming speed, which considering how high up he was, was a fairly impressive feat. JARVIS helpfully informed him exactly how fast and how close, but Tony didn’t really process it any further than ‘might hurt if it hit,’ as he was far too busy paying attention to the battle taking place underneath him.

Natasha and Thor were battling whatever being Loki had decided to summon this time, some grotesque lizard-like creature. He couldn’t see them, but Clint and Steve had taken off to go find Loki and hopefully bring him down. Tony wasn’t sure where exactly Bruce was, or even if he was currently Bruce, which was only slightly worrying. He hadn’t been present when the alarm had gone off; maybe he was still gathering dust in his lab. Not that Tony had any room to talk.

Tony blinked back into the present as he saw Thor only just manage to deflect a large portion of what was possibly a lamppost at some stage, but in doing so left Natasha, who was making her way over to the thing to try and stab it or something, open.

Tony was no fool. He knew the Black Widow could handle herself, but even she couldn’t wrestle with the head of a seventy foot long lizard and defend against all the debris being thrown around by the thrashing reptile. He winced slightly as he saw her be thrown violently to the side as the beast swung its head.

He dropped easily next to her as she recovered, firing a repulsor blast at a car that was flying towards them. Natasha paused for a split second, caught Tony’s eye (or where his eye was through the face plate, it was close enough) and gave him a nod before resuming her battle with the lizard. 

Thor, now very much recovered, appeared next to Tony, wearing a smile far too wide for this early in the morning, regardless of the fact they were currently fighting his deranged brother.

“Man of Iron!” he boomed (though that went without saying, when did Thor not boom?) patting Tony on the back. “Perhaps you would be more use assisting the Captain and the one with Eyes of the Hawk?”

Tony pulled a dubious face as he blasted a motorcycle out of Natasha’s way before realizing he still had the faceplate down and Thor wouldn’t be able to see his beautiful face. What a waste of one of his many wonderful facial expressions.

“Erm. Yeah, OK, not sure if that’s a good idea,” he managed to get out before the earpiece he was wearing gave a buzz and Clint’s voice came through.

“If you’re done slaying the dragon, we could use your help Stark. Mm, actually, scratch that. Even if Puff the Magic Dragon’s still around, we need you to get your tin ass over here. Loki’s being a diva.”

Tony let out a soft stream of swears before giving Thor a mocking wave and taking off to go and find his teammates. He didn’t actually get very far before he heard a very loud, very angry sounding roar. Oh. Well. There was Bruce, or rather his much more aggressive alter-ego. The Hulk didn’t seem too pleased that they had left him behind, but hopefully he’d choose to let out his aggression on the reptile threatening to eat the Empire State building rather than anyone else. Still, it meant he was no longer needed here, so he picked up the pace.

 

*

 

It took a depressingly short time to locate Loki. The swirling mass of black and green clouds coupled with the utter destruction around the area was a clear indicator of his location. And then Fury told him off for accidentally blowing up park benches. This was on a whole other scale.

Swooping in lower, he caught sight of Steve’s loud outfit, a contrast to Clint’s dark uniform that he only spotted after a second glance and a heat-scan. Loki came up as a heatless body a few feet away, and of course, he was a frost giant, duh Stark.

It seemed that they were at a bit of stalemate, Loki’s magician wand or whatever it was he’d replaced the sceptre they’d broken a few months ago with, pointed at Clint, Steve holding his shield in a defensive stance. Loki was on a bus that thankfully seemed devoid of passengers, as it was lying on its side, and he was looking down at his teammates with the usual scornful look.

“Honey, I’m home!” Tony called, giving Loki about a second to turn to face him as he barrelled into the Asguardian, throwing him off his feet and onto the floor. He swerved neatly and came to land in front of Loki, who was picking himself off the floor with a dejected look on his face, clearly disgruntled. He gathered his composure quickly though and treated Tony to a scowl. 

“Stark,” he growled, narrowing his eyes, “as irritating as always.”

“Aw baby, don’t be like that,” he purred, ignoring the way Steve was glaring at him. It doesn't matter how many times super boy wonder discourages him from baiting super villains, he’s going to keep doing it. 

Obviously, it’s the wrong thing to say, as Loki gets a mad look in his eye, and points his fairy wand at Tony.

“I wonder how long you’d stand slowly loosing yourself,” he hissed, and the tip of the mystical twig of destiny started glowing the same ominous green as the fog surrounding them, which had rather worryingly lost all trace of black. “Your quips and your brain are all you have, after all.” And Tony couldn’t help but flinch at that, because it’s true, isn’t it? 

He was faintly aware of both Clint and Steve yelling his name as he was enveloped by clouds of green smoke, but he was starting to feel light-headed, short of breath. That wasn’t good. It was flying into space all over again, finding there wasn’t enough oxygen, but you could still breathe, but it wasn’t working, and you were dying slowly and your body not knowing why and- 

A loud _thunk!_ brought him out of his jumbled thought process. He blinked once, twice, clearing his eyesight to see Loki had vanished, and Steve was running towards him, shield in his hand. Now that the fog has cleared and he could breathe better, his brain managed to provide Steve threw his shield at Loki. He looks around for Clint, but doesn’t spot him until he is literally two feet away and knocking on his faceplate. How even?

“Stark, Tony, are you OK?” And that sets off alarm bells, because Clint doesn’t ever call him by his given name, and wow, he must be genuinely worried, that’s a nice thought. He rolled up the faceplate and looks at Clint in the eye for a moment before answering.

“I _think_ so. I mean, I haven’t grown breasts or turned into a newt yet.” That seemed to satisfy the archer, who with a nod turned away and started to make his way back from where Tony had come from, where Thor, Natasha and the Hulk may or may not still be killing a lizard. Steve, however, was not as easily placated. 

“You sure you aren’t hurt?” And now Steve’s got his hand on Tony’s shoulders, a slightly manic look in his eyes. Or maybe it was concern. He didn’t really want to look at it too closely.

“I’m _fine._ What happened to Loki?” The Captain blinked, looking around him, then gave a shrug. “Fan-fucking-tastic,” Tony muttered, though from the disapproving Steve gave him it was clear he’d heard, so he might as well have yelled out the curse at the top of his lungs. “So now we’ve got Loki running around doing who knows what, possibly a rampaging reptile, and Pepper’s going to kill me for forgetting to get those plans to her, and now you’re pulling that angry frustrated face, what did I do?”

“What did you do?” Steve repeated his face twisted into what was almost a snarl. “You disobeyed an order, again! I told you to help Natasha and Thor with the lizard, why did you decide that you could come and take on Loki, risking their lives as well as yours?”

“Relax Cap, it wasn’t as if I left them to fend for themselves, the Hulk was on his way.” Hm, so that wasn’t one hundred per cent true, but where else would big green and mean be headed? “Besides, I didn’t just decide to some and _save your asses_ on my own. Barton asked me to come and rescue you.”

Steve had the decency to look a little sheepish at that. Still he didn’t relent though. “Surely there was a better way to deal with it than tackling him to the ground, Tony?” Ah well. At least he didn’t sound like he was about to decapitate someone. Or Tony. Decapitating Tony would have worked. 

“It would’ve taken too long. Who knows what Loki could’ve done to Clint?” Steve still looked irritated, but only slightly. “Going to make sure Nat and Thor are OK. Later, Cap.” And with that, he took off again.

 

*

 

The Avengers have been living in the tower for nearly eleven months. 

One would think that living with two assassins, a super soldier, a pretty-much god and a man who could turn green and flay you in three seconds would be terrifying. The strangest part was that it wasn’t the people themselves that scared Tony. 

What frightened him was that he liked having them around.

However much he complained about them eating all his food, pulling him out of his workshop before he fainted, of being ambushed suddenly when heading somewhere in his house, of their general noisiness and terrible taste in films, he liked having people in his house. It was chaotic, it was mad, it was loud, it was nice, and it was fucking terrifying. 

It was no secret that Tony wasn’t good with emotions or feelings or relationships or any of that malarkey, but even he wasn’t emotionally stunted enough to recognize the fact that he considered these intrusive madmen his friends. He just had a very odd way of showing it.

His favourite way of showing ‘hey I kind of don’t mind having you around’ was showering them in gifts. This only worked well with Clint, who was happy to live off of Tony’s riches. The other four Avengers were less impressed. And so, Tony had reverted to making them things himself. 

This week’s particular project was a new gun for Natasha. 

It had been six, maybe seven days since the incident with Loki, and he’d spent most of that time holed up in his workshop, working on the gun (hence why he had no clue what date it was). He had decided to resurface before he was proclaimed dead, and so tore himself away from his work on the second-perhaps-third evening, making his way upstairs to see that in front of the TV Bruce and Thor were on his sofa, Steve and Natasha were in the armchairs and Clint was lying on the floor.

“Oh wow is Barton cooking because I am hungry and I could eat a whole whale by myself. Actually yeah fish, fish is good, cooking fish now please.” Tony pauses, revisiting the words he let out when his teammates shoot surprised looks at him, and huh, yeah. He babbles usually of course, but that had been just a stream of thought spoken out loud, and it didn’t even sound right, lacking the sarcasm and general snarky undertone his words usually held.

“Do we even have fish?” Clint asked eventually, brow furrowing. “Not counting Bruce’s pets, I don’t think that it’s acceptable to eat them.”

“Possibly?” Bruce tried, standing up to check in the fridge. Tony took advantage of the scientist’s generosity to steal his seat on the sofa. “We have some tuna I think? It doesn’t look too rancid.”

“Good enough for me!” Tony said with a grin, turning to look at the TV screen. They seemed to be watching some mindless film with explosions and loud music. Excellent, just the kind of nonsense that he needed after straining his brain for x amount of hours. 

He leaned back slightly, kicking his legs up onto the other end of the sofa (and therefore across Thor’s lap, but that was irrelevant, the Asguardian didn’t ever care) and closed his eyes a little. Honestly, he couldn’t remember a time when he’d felt so content. 

“Tony? Tony, are you _purring?”_

“What?”

“You were purring. I’m not the only one who heard him, right?” Steve looked around slightly nervously, though he relaxed a little when he saw that the others were nodding too, all of them staring wide-eyed at Tony. 

“Are you feeling OK Stark?” Natasha managed at last. Tony had sat up by this point and was looking rather tense, fingers on his throat, clearly trying to see if he had been indeed purring, though by this stage he has long since stopped.

“Perfect,” he says after a few moments, leaning back against the sofa, a bewildered expression on his face. “Never felt better.”

 

*

 

Something similar happened the next morning, when Tony went up to get his morning nine cups of coffee. He was waiting for the machine to brew when Clint walked past. Without really thinking about it, Tony reached out and grabbed onto the archer’s arm with both hands, arching his fingers so his nails dug into Clint’s flesh slightly. 

“What do you want Stark?” 

“I- I honestly have no clue. Sorry about that.” Clint had given him an odd look, then shrugged it off and walked out. 

Tony might have got over it if the same thing didn’t then happen with Bruce.

And then with Thor.

And then with Natasha.

And then with Steve.

_Fuck it all._

 

*

 

Steve actually feels very ashamed it took them until Tony walked into the living room two days later to realize something was wrong. They’d put down his strange behaviour as just Tony being eccentric, even the demanding fish and purring on the sofa, Christ, how did he not get it at the _purring?_

Anyway, it was an afternoon, and Tony had finished building the first prototype for the Black Widow’s gun, and so was feeling rather pleased, and had decided to reward himself with one of Steve’s home-made muffins.  
As soon as he walked into the kitchen he knew something was wrong. Steve turned to greet him, but the smile that had begun to appear on his face dropped instantly, his eyes widening. Tony’s brow furrowed slightly, and he tilted his head a little.

“What? Did I fall asleep on Dummy again or-?” he raised his hands to his face to try and find any imprints sleeping on a robot might have left, but froze when his palms brushed against something else. “Steve? What’s on my face?” Steve looked too mortified to respond, seemingly haven frozen in shock, but Tony got his answer anyway from Clint, who’d just strode into the kitchen.

“Hey what are we staring at- whoa, why do you have whiskers Stark?"

 


	2. Chapter 2

“I’m so done with you,” Tony snapped as Clint smirked at him across the room. Clearly the marksman thought this was hilarious. Tony was just itching to go over there and punch the smug expression off his face, but there was a full set of Avengers between him and the giggling Clint.

Well, he hadn’t been the only one laughing. Once the shock had passed when it had been explained to them, the rest of the Avengers had been amused as well. Tony wasn’t dumb enough to express his displeasure to Natasha, and who could actually be angry at Thor or Steve? It was like kicking a puppy. _Two_ puppies. Two blonde, blue-eyed and exceptionally naïve puppies. Bruce was the only one at least trying to hide his grin, and though he was failing abysmally, Tony appreciated the effort enough not to whinge at him. Too much.

He glared at Clint, which of course only made him laugh harder, because apparently, when you have whiskers and you’re angry, they fucking _twitch._ With a growl, Tony reached out and brought the coffee mug (spiked with a shot or two of liquor, which Steve had disapproved of, but whatever, this was stressful, he was entitled to a drink) to his lips, only to find that he couldn’t drink from the mug properly without covering his whiskers in liquid. 

He set the mug down, letting out a long stream of swears, and wiped the back of his hand across his face, flicking the droplets of coffee away. He looked up to see Clint on the floor, literally howling with laughter, probably only seconds away from crying, and no, fuck it, Tony was _so done_ with this.

He stood up, still growling slightly, grabbing his mug after a split-second pause, and stalked off to his workshop, ignoring the calls from his teammates. He heard Natasha say something and the sharp _thwack!_ of someone (probably the Black Widow herself) slapping Clint upside the head. Good.

 

*

 

It was roughly three days before Tony surfaced again.

The first thing he did, after showering and noting with dismay that he had started to grow fur in placed there really shouldn’t be fur, and that his teeth and nails were slightly elongated and pointed, was demand that Clint tested Natasha’s weapon, as he had constructed his second prototype (the first one had blown up when he’d tried it, and much to his disappointment, Tony had to reduce the power) and was eager to show off.

Clint had of course readily agreed, always happy to play with the latest Stark invention, after performing what had become known as the New Stark Toys Dance. And that was how Tony ended up in the shooting range, explaining the features he’d added into the gun. Despite the fact that he no longer produced weapons to be sold, Tony had fallen back into the habit very quickly, cramming everything he knew (and some things he didn’t) into one sleek gun that could be hidden in Natasha’s seemingly invisible pockets. The thought was admittedly fairly alarming.

“What’s this button?” Clint demanded, jabbing at the said switch. Tony didn’t bother to point out he could have just blown them both up had he chosen to press the button a few inches away.

“Nothing exciting I’m afraid. Just a laser so far, you know, for precision, in case one of us with non-superhuman aim needed to fire it or if Natasha was firing long range. But I was thinking, you guys do that sneaking in the shadows thing, it’s kind of impractical for a bright red dot to give away the fact you’re about to shoot at someone, so maybe I could make some goggles or glasses or lenses or whatever, make the laser infrared, and then… And then… Then… hn.”

Clint looked up from the gun, finger still pressing the button, to glance at Tony. He hadn’t really been listening to the man, but he knew from experience that the fact he’d stopped babbling so soon indicated he’d either realized Clint had absolutely no interest in what he was saying or was unable to keep going. More often than not it was the latter, for even if Tony did realize Clint didn’t give a shit, he kept going.

To the agent’s surprise however, he saw that Tony seemed completely transfixed. He had fallen silent, yes, but he was staring straight ahead, a little tense, eyes alight with something Clint couldn’t quite identify. To his amusement, the billionaire’s whiskers were twitching, though he managed to contain his chuckle in favour of checking what was alarming Tony.

Clint didn’t quite manage to contain his snort when he realized what it was.

The man was apparently staring right at the red dot on the wall. 

Just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it, Clint slowly moved the gun, watching with a smirk how Tony followed it with his eyes. Grinning openly now, he jerked the gun to the opposite side, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself bursting out in laughter as Tony ran across the room after it. 

When Tony was seconds away from slamming his hand against the space where the laser was, Clint moved the gun again. With a hiss, Tony followed, slipping as he approached the wall and crashing into it. Scrambling back to his feet, he chased after the dot that was now halfway across the room again.

They kept on like that for about five minutes, Clint snickering every single time Tony managed to reach the dot before he moved the gun again. More often than not, Tony would slip and fall, and sometimes he’d resort to scrabbling along the floor on all fours. He aimed the laser towards the end of the room where all the targets were stacked up, snorting, but froze and dropped the gun like it was on fire when the door slid open. He winced as he heard a screech and a clatter of things falling as Tony ran straight into the pile of targets.

“Barton!” Steve, no Captain America, there was no trace of the man who spent his days doodling in a notebook now, was making his way towards Clint, his face twisted into an expression of barely contained rage. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”

“Er, chase-the-laser with Stark.” Clint gave him a weak grin, scratching the back of his head, stepping away. At the sound of his name, Tony gave a groan, and there was a sound that suggested he was attempting to sit up, but that it wasn’t going well. This caught Steve’s attention, allowing a small timeframe for Clint to make a break for it, which he did without hesitation.

Steve frowned after him for a moment, but then went over to where Tony seemed to be trying to hide under the fallen targets.  
“What are you doing?” 

“I’m not entirely sure.” After an awkward moment of silence, Tony pulled himself out of the pile, looking so completely bewildered Steve couldn’t help but feel sorry for him, but at the same time, he was worried. He’d been expecting some sarcastic quip, perhaps something along the lines of ‘building a bridge to the moon. What does it look like to you, Rogers?’ not this blunt honesty. He was a little scared, truth be told, and Tony probably was too if he was admitting he didn’t know what he was doing.

*

 

A couple of days later, Tony attempted to crawl into Bruce’s lap.

It was a lot less sexual than it sounded, but there was really no other way of phrasing it. 

The two of them had been left alone, watching TV. The rest of the Avengers had gone out to deal with some sort of robbery involving mutants, too low-level to require the Hulk. Tony had been benched due to his newly developed habit of forgetting his task in favour of chasing after shiny objects. 

After whining about being left behind however, it wasn’t so bad. There were worse ways to spend an evening than being splayed across a sofa while watching Doctor Who with Bruce. It sure beat running around Manhattan trying to stop some kid who’d discovered how to summon bees or whatever, Tony really couldn’t care less anymore. 

Gradually, without really thinking about it, he had been shifting closer and closer to Bruce over the course of the marathon, and by the seventh episode, he had successfully managed to lean across Bruce’s legs. It took about another half on an episode for Tony to realize he’d done this. 

Mortified, he sat up, throwing himself towards the opposite end of the sofa, muttering curses and ‘oh _god’_ s. “Why the fuck didn’t you say something?” is the first fully formed sentence that leaves his mouth.

“You invade everyone’s personal space on a regular basis. It didn’t seem like that big a deal,” Bruce replied calmly. “Apart from Clint, nobody else ever gets that close to Natasha. We’re all kind of used to it.” Tony, still looking slightly ruffled, but less mortified, settled down back into the sofa, turning his attention back to the screen without another word.

It took another thirty minutes for him to lean back on Bruce’s lap, where he stayed until the other Avengers returned.

*

Tony woke up feeling oddly content. 

This was extremely unusual. For a start, waking up wasn’t something that normally happened, seeing as he usually pulled all-nighters on average three days a week. Secondly, he was not a morning person. At all. His speech was limited to grunts and vague gestures before at least his third cup of coffee, and even then answers to questions were monosyllabic at best. He would then crawl back to his workshop until at least noon before being fit for human interaction. Or, as fit for human interaction as Tony Stark could ever be. 

He closed his eyes, listening to the noise of the Avengers clambering about, performing their own morning routines. There was the sound of Thor, demanding that Clint move away from the toaster so that ‘the Son of Odin may consume the daybreak feast,’ the commentary on the headlines shared between Steve and Natasha, the shuffle of Bruce’s covered feet along the hall as he sought to avoid the madness of the rest of the household. 

Tony fancied he could smell the pancakes that Barton would be cooking by now, the coffee that was surely already being brewed. He sat up with a yawn, rolling out of his bed and putting on something that appeared to be at least halfway decent before heading to the kitchen.

He was immediately overwhelmed by his senses. Everything seemed far too loud, too bright. He froze in place, unable to process all the information being thrown at him, his brain screaming at him to get out of there, his limbs completely unresponsive. He felt someone touch his shoulder, and he let out a yelp, springing into action, managing to get about five feet before collapsing, blacking out. 

 

*

 

“-ny? Tony, can you hear me?”

“Too loud,” he managed to grit out, covering his ears. Bruce’s words were distorted, blaringly loud despite the scientist’s normally subdued tones. He prayed to every god, Mayan to Pastafarian and every deity in between, that Thor would choose to remain silent for the foreseeable future. The Asguardian’s indoor voice was near deafening levels. Natasha was approaching. It took a minute for him to realize he knew this despite the fact that he had his eyes screwed shut to avoid the light. It took another for him to notice that he was _smelling_ that she was getting closer, her scent was sharp, almost like winter, and damned if that wasn’t a weird thought. 

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, voice devoid of emotion, clearly business like. That was one of the good points of Natasha; she was always focused on the task at hand.

“I think he’s having a sensory overload,” Bruce muttered back, trying to keep his voice low as possible. “His hearing and vision are getting more acute, and he’s still adjusting to it.”

“I can _smell_ you.” Tony Stark absolutely did not whine. He complained and groaned and damned as much as he wanted, but whine was a completely unacceptable word to use to describe the words that left his mouth. But even he, with all his pride and ego, had to admit that was getting perilously close.

“Scent as well I guess.” Natasha seemed to be about to speak, but was cut off by a loud groan from Tony. “We should move him somewhere quieter until he gets used to it. Could someone move him?”

Tony felt someone pick him up, though he was too out of it to even be able to smell who it was at this point, too far gone to even resist. Even as he was being hoisted up, he could feel himself slip. He had no memory of being carried whatsoever. 

 

*

 

Steve was there when he woke up. 

He didn’t actually open his eyes at first, but the world didn’t seem to be screaming at him as loudly now and his head wasn’t throbbing as badly.

“Hey Tony. I figured you’d rather be in your workshop than your room. How are you feeling?” The response was a low groan. Steve pulled a sympathetic face, though Tony still hadn’t bothered to open his eyes. “Yeah, I remember right after the serum, when my senses got better, it was pretty rough at first.” 

Slowly, Tony opened his eyes. Steve was in one of the spare chairs Tony had brought down after the Avengers had started hanging around his workshop. He suspected it had something to do with them not trusting him after he had accidentally blown up an experiment and signed off his eyebrows and beard a few months ago, but he didn’t like to think about it too much. He surveyed the rest of the room, half expecting to see another Avenger around, but the only person around seemed to be Steve, his back turned to Tony, but instead he caught sight of something that made him freeze in place.

“Why the hell is my suit purple?”

“Purple? What are you talking about?” Steve turned around, looking concerned. He glanced over the Iron Man suit with a puzzled expression that grew more confused by the moment. “It’s still the same?”

“No it’s not. It’s a weird grey-purple and gold.”

“I’m fairly certain it’s still red.” Steve stood up and walked over to Tony, crouching slightly to be eye-level with him, so close Tony could smell him. He smelled kind of nice actually. “Are you feeling alri- oh God.” He paled considerably, taking a step back. Tony blinked at him and frowned, his head tilting slightly. “Y-Your eyes Tony.” No more enlightened, Tony stood, somewhat shakily, and wandered over to his workbench, picking up a particularly reflective piece of metal.

“Shit.” There was no other word to describe it. His eyes, which he was pretty sure had been fairly regular but hours beforehand, had now taken on a distinctly feline appearance. As in to say, he now had slitted pupils. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and spun to face Steve, too caught off guard to mask his horrified expression. 

“I’m sorry.” Tony’s shoulders slumped and his head hung in defeat. 

“I fucking hate magic.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cats can't see red apparently, so. By the way, this story is un-beta'd, hence all the terrible mistakes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa I suck at updating sorry. Have some cat.

Shortly after that suitably traumatic experience, Tony locked himself in the workshop, letting nobody in. He’d been hiding there for approximately five days, and the Avengers had resorted to leaving offerings of food outside his door and asking JARVIS to tell his creator about it. About one in every four plates was left empty at the end of forty eight hours.

Bruce, Thor and Steve had all tried coaxing Tony out of his lair, but none of them had got any further than the door leading to the room before JARVIS alerted them that Tony was completely ignoring them, even when Bruce threatened to unleash his considerably less reasonable alter-ego. 

“Come on, let me go and drag his sorry ass out here. I’ll be in and out in like seven minutes.”

“You’d break his neck, Clint,” Bruce pointed out quietly, a small smile adorning his face. The Avengers (or at least, the ones that weren’t hiding in their geek caves) were in the common living room, for Bruce had announced that it was about time something was done about their teammate.

“You always ruin my fun,” the archer complained, leaning back on his chair with a huff. 

“I could always go. I have the same knowledge as Clint, and Stark isn’t idiotic enough to ignore me,” Natasha pointed out, seemingly disinterested, examining her nails. Steve’s mouth twisted to one side as he considered it, and then sighed.

“It’s a good a plan as any. We can’t just let him stay in there or he’ll never come out. Go for it.” Natasha gave a soft smile, before standing and exiting. Steve could only hope he’d made the right choice, and that their teammate wouldn’t end up with his head impaled on a large pointed stick.

 

*

 

“Stark?” Natasha called, looking around the dark workshop. She had crawled in through the air vents after unsuccessfully attempting to hack the doors, and as soon as she’d dropped in, she knew something was wrong. For a start, there was not a single light on and secondly and most importantly, the room was eerily silent. Even if he wasn’t blasting his music, the man usually was always working. Something was being welded, the bots were always whirring, the gears in his inventions whining. And yet it was nearly completely quiet, the only noises being Natasha’s light breathing. 

She froze in place when the silence was shattered by the sound of something rolling and smashing. Immediately she fell into a defensive stance, grabbing the nearest item that even vaguely resembled a weapon (not that this meant much, Natasha could probably kill someone with a plastic spoon) and pointed it in the direction where the sound had come from.

“You have ten seconds to tell me who you are.” 

“How did you even get in?” Natasha frowned for a minute, before spotting the figure that presumably was Tony. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. Just leave. Please.” His voice sounded rough, as if he hadn’t spoken in a long time. That was worrying. Even when he shut himself off from the rest of the world, Natasha knew that Tony almost always had a word for his bots or JARVIS. Even worse than that though, he sounded as if he was in pain. 

Though she’d never admit it, Natasha had always been impressed by Tony’s ability to hide his discomfort, despite never receiving any kind of training. She suspected it had something to do with his upbringing, but she didn’t like to dwell on such thoughts. Her own (rather stunted) memories were disheartening enough without having to pity her teammates as well.

“JARVIS, turn up some lights for me please.” The AI hesitated for a moment, presumably to give Tony a chance to object, before complying with a quiet ‘Of course Ms. Romanov.’ The light above Natasha flickered to life, and though it didn’t illuminate the entire room, it was enough to let her see by. “Stark? Are you sure you’re alright?” 

She was well and truly amazed (and slightly humbled, truth be told) when Tony stepped forward into the light. She knew from experience that Tony was a man who did not give trust easily, who didn’t like to show his weakness to anyone, especially those who were around him more often than not. And yet, though he was clearly exceedingly uncomfortable doing so, he was still trusting her. She knew this, knew how easy it would be to send him scuttling back to the shadows, and though she managed to suppress most of her reaction for fear of sending him running, she couldn’t quite help the slight widening of her eyes.

Tony was covered in fur. Not only his face, but his arms, his neck, even his palms seemed to be concealed in it. The light was bouncing off his eyes, and he was still far enough back in the shadow that they seemed to be glowing slightly. Unless her eyesight was failing her, it seemed his ears were pointed, slightly above where they would normally be, and they too were covered in dark fur. When he opened his mouth to take a deep breath before speaking, she saw the same was true of his teeth. Sharp. Like fangs.

“I know,” he managed at length. And there was really nothing else to be said. 

 

*

 

After having his workshop infiltrated, Tony retreated to his own floor under the cover of night, calling for JARVIS to monitor every possible entrance and stop anyone coming in, _even through the air vents._ It would forever be a mystery as to why he lived with people who were actually capable of and frequently did pull that kind of shit.

He then proceeded to spend the next few days curled up on his bed in absolute agony whilst his bone structure rearranged, determined not to bother any of the other residents.

 

*

 

Magic was the _worst._

 

*

 

“Doctor Banner, is now an appropriate time?” Bruce blinked, looking up from his book. He, like most of the residents of the Stark household (barring the man himself of course) struggled to come to terms with the fact that he was always looking at JARVIS, and not just when he tilted his head up to the ceiling. It was a common enough occurrence, as he had noticed even Pepper, who had lived here at one point, though she had moved out after the Break-Up, still did it occasionally.   
“What’s up, JARVIS?” 

“Sir requires assistance, and I believe he’d take it best from you.” Immediately Bruce was on his feet, tense. Natasha had reported that Tony had been in a bad way when she saw him, but she hadn’t listed specifics, saying that it was probably best they left him alone.

“Is he alright?” Bruce managed to get after a while, trying to beat down the thoughts of what could possibly have happened to his friend. The Other Guy had always had a fondness for Tony, and Bruce wasn’t confident about what his alter-ego would deem extreme. 

“Sir is not in any danger, but I think it would be best if he had human company. I have unlocked the doors for you.” Bruce gave a nod before making his way over to the lift, not even having to push a button before JARVIS sent him to Tony’s private floor. “If you could not mention that I sent you it would be much appreciated, Doctor. He is in his room.”

Bruce didn’t acknowledge the AI, being too busy making his way towards the rarely used bedroom (when the man did sleep, it was usually on the sofa in his workshop or in the common area). He opened the door, looking around, and wasn’t actually too surprised to see how dark it was.

“Tony?” he called gently, looking around the room, but there was no sight of the man. 

“Go away.” Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin. Where had his voice come from? It sounded muffled, but only slightly, and it was clearly Tony’s voice. He looked around, noticing a small lump he had thought was a pillow or some clothes under the bed sheets, but on closer inspection, appeared to be breathing. It clicked immediately.

“Tony, come out. You’re going to suffocate yourself.”

There was no response, but the lump wriggled until Tony’s head reluctantly appeared out of the end of the sheets. His remarkably furry and un-human-like head. The rest of the distinctly feline body followed shortly, though unenthusiastically, and Tony fell rather ungracefully off the side of the bed and onto the floor.

 

“I’m calling bullshit on the ‘cats always land on their feet’ thing,” Tony muttered, and it was really saying something how normal it felt to see a cat talking like a person. Bruce’s life was strange.

“It’s to do with balance. You probably just haven’t mastered it yet.”

“I can’t even walk six paces without falling over. I think skydiving with without a parachute and no consequences is a little bit advanced for me at the moment.” Tony gave what was probably meant to be a frown as he looked up to Bruce, but in fact, all that happened were his whiskers twitched. One side of Bruce’s mouth twitched up for a moment as the somewhat peculiar thought of _that’s adorable_ crossed his mind before he remembered this was Tony Stark, not some kitten. That thought just made him grin outright.

“Sorry, sorry,” Bruce attempted to amend as soon as Tony started hissing at him. “Look, there’s no point in hiding up here. Let’s go downstairs.” 

Tony’s ears twitched as he glared up at Bruce defiantly, before giving in with a huff and starting to move towards the door. He promptly tripped over his own legs and was sent sprawling across the room. Bruce’s breath caught in his throat, worry crossing his features before Tony’s indignant ‘ow’ assured him his friend was fine. Tony only complained if his injuries were minor.

“I see what you mean about the six steps.”

“You try walking with four legs,” Tony snapped back, eyes narrowing. Bruce raised his hands in defeat before sighing and scooping up Tony, much to the latter’s chagrin. “Hey no, this is not what I meant, put me down Bruce, this is not OK!” 

Bruce, unsurprisingly, completely ignored his protests, and instead cradled him in his arms, much like an infant. It appeared that even as a feline, Tony wasn’t the largest man. That was annoying. After a few moments struggle however, he fell silent, trying not to be too irritated. “Bruce?” he managed at length, tilting his head up to look at his friend. “Can we… Can we not go to the common area? I think I need to talk to Pepper first.”

Bruce blinked, clearly surprised, but gave a shrug. “Why not?” was the response given before he set Tony down on an armchair in the living room. Tony gave a sigh, sitting himself on the arm of the seat.

“JARVIS, is Pepper in a meeting?”

“Miss Potts is currently available.”

“Great. Set up a call.” With a soft ‘of course, sir’ the AI shone up a hologram, which made Bruce jump (really he should know better by now) and Pepper’s face appeared.

“What’s wrong, Tony? You’re never up at this ti-“ Pepper trailed off, her face doing little to hide her shock at seeing the cat on the chair.

“Hi Pep,” Tony managed eventually, trying for a smile that didn’t really translate very well onto cat features, making it look like he was grimacing instead.

“Please tell me this is a joke.” Pepper’s face was distinctly stern, bordering on hysteria. It was only her carefully constructed mask she’d developed to keep herself in check in front of the public that kept her from going ballistic.

“It is actually. One of Loki’s pranks. As you can see, it’s terribly amusing.” Pepper drew a hand over a face, breathing sharply, clearly attempting to keep herself calm. 

“Do you know how to fix it?” 

“Sure, Bruce and I are working on it. We’re getting close, and Thor’s doing his best to identify what the kind of magic it is. The others are trying to track down Loki right now.” Bruce frowned at the lie, but Tony didn’t react. The explanation seemed plausible and it was delivered without a waver or hesitation. Clearly he had been underestimating Tony’s ability to lie. 

“How long have you been like this?” 

“Just a day, Pep, relax. It’s been a bit hectic.” That, at least, wasn’t false. “Could you do me a favour though? Could you call Rhodey and let him know? It’s a bit hard to hold a phone at the moment.” Pepper sighed and gave a nod. “Thanks Pep. You’re the best. I’ll try talk to you later.” 

The connection cut off, and Tony jumped off the armchair, managing to not fall flat on his face, but only just. “Alright, all done.”

“Why did you lie to Pepper?” Bruce picked up Tony again, making his way over to the lift.

“I don’t like to worry her. Shit like this is why we didn’t last. She needs to know, but only so much.” Bruce gave a frown. He didn’t agree with Tony, but it wasn’t worth it to argue with him about it. He seemed to have saddened himself too. Bruce’s mouth moved to one side in sympathy, and he gave Tony’s head a reassuring pat as he entered the lift. He wasn’t too surprised when Tony took a snap at him.

 

*

 

“What do we do then?” Steve asked, looked around at the assembled team. Clint and Bruce were sitting on the sofa, and Thor was standing over by the door. On the armchair opposite to Steve’s was Natasha, and on her lap, Tony. 

It had been as much a surprise to Tony as any of the others, but after Bruce had walked in and explained to the shocked team, Natasha had taken Tony from Bruce and sat down, stroking his throat gently. The only explanation offered was a steady “I like cats” and nobody argued with that.

“It is Loki’s magic that has done this to our shield-brother. I must apologize for my brother’s behaviour friend Anthony.” Thor looked upset and determined at the same time, and spoke over the assurances that he was not at fault. “We must seek him out in order to fix this.”

“I really can’t see how this is even remotely science based. I don’t think there’s anything we can do about this.” Bruce didn’t look happy about that, and Tony probably would complain if he wasn’t too busy being petted. 

He’d never really understood until that moment how animals got so much enjoyment from having their chin scratched. Right at that instant, he was struggling to think of something more comforting. He could hear himself purring, and he really couldn’t bring himself to care. The simple gesture was doing wonders to his nerves. Natasha’s hand moved lower down his throat every now and then before going up again, each stroke making him more and more relaxed.

“Enjoying yourself there, Stark?” Tony could hear the smirk in Clint’s voice, even if he couldn’t see it due to his eyes having snapped shut at some point. He didn’t dignify the taunt with a response though, and the archer quickly lost interest. “We could ask SHEILD to help us track him. As much as I enjoy seeing dearest Tony here outfitted in a fur coat, he can’t build me stuff when he’s like this. SHEILD won’t like having him out of action either.”

“We’ll go to SHEILD if we have to, but we should at least try and work this out by ourselves first. They’ll only slow us do-“ Steve was cut short by a yowl, and they all turned to look.

Tony had sunk his teeth into Natasha’s hand, and even from a distance it was easy to tell he’d drawn blood. That was not the most alarming part however. His ears were plastered against his skull, he had his hackled raised, and his eyes were wide, shining with barely contained terror. His breathing was shallow and quickly, his tail twitching slightly. Natasha’s face was blank, though her eyes were fixed on Tony’s face. The inventor took a sharp breath, releasing her hand and doing his best to lay his fur flat and raise his ears.

“I’m sorry Natasha,” he said quietly, looking as if he was sinking into his fur he was so ashamed.

“It was my fault. I should have known better than to…” she gestured vaguely with her uninjured hand at Tony’s chest where the arc reactor had once been embedded, the place that moments ago her hand had been. Even though the machine was no longer there, Tony had never been able to cope with being touched in that particular area. It brought back memories he’d rather bury.

“I’m sorry,” Tony said again, gently pressing his nose against her injury in an attempt to see how much damage he’d done. It didn’t look too bad, more than enough for the Black Widow to handle, but it still didn’t quell the amazing sense of guilt. He swallowed, trying to slow his rapid breathing before turning to look at the rest of the Avengers, who were still watching him, concern of all emotions easily read from their expressions. Tony lowered his head slightly, avoiding making eye contact with anyone as he slid off Natasha’s lap and hid under the armchair with another apology.

He heard the groan of the armchair as she stood, probably to go and find something to clean up her hand with something. He was entirely unprepared to be pulled out from underneath his hiding place and deposited back onto the seat by a distinctly unimpressed Natasha.

“Something isn’t right. Stark’s an animal alright, but he’s terrified of Nat. No way he’d bite her normally.” Clint gave a frown, looking at Thor. “Any chance this magic is affecting his behaviour as well as his appearance and impulses? It would explain why he’s been acting crazy. Well, crazier than usual.” Thor looked pensive for a moment before responding, though the expression didn’t clear when he spoke.

“It is a possibility, although I cannot be certain as I am not as learned as I could be in the art of magic. I apologize.”

“Well, there’s nothing to do about it except find Loki. I’m not sure how good an idea it is for you to try and work on any projects, Tony, even if you get your bots to do all the heavy lifting, not if you’re likely to run off and lie in the sun a while,” Bruce supplied, looking over at his friend with a stern look.

“Sure, any excuse not to have to work on the new Starkphone. I’m not going to need the armour at any time soon anyway.” Tony still didn’t look entirely happy, despite his nonchalant tone. 

Steve gave a slight frown. It was odd having the man’s emotions brought to the surface so quickly. Normally he was much more guarded about his thoughts, and he never apologized, especially not three times in a row. He’d hardly been a feline for five hours and he was already becoming easier to read. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad thing after all.


End file.
